Buried Alive: A dark Romantic Suspense (The Buried Series Book 1)

by Vella Day

  “Who’s to say, until we know who #1 is.” A horn honked in the background. “Try this scenario. Maybe #1 worked at the same firm as Janet, or perhaps she was a neighbor who witnessed the abuse.”

  “You’re blowing this situation out of proportion.” At least she hoped he was.

  “I’m worried this guy might come after you.”

  She swallowed hard. “Why would he do that?”

  “Kopetski knows you can learn things from his wife’s bones.”

  “So?”

  “Kerry, I’ve seen too many times when witnesses get harmed.”

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’m not a witness, per se. I promise I’ll lock all my doors. If our weirdo calls again, I’ll let you know. And this time, I’ll listen to his cadence, memorize how he sounds.” Buster rushed over to her and licked her hand. She ran a hand down his back.

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. Call me if you plan to leave your house tomorrow, okay? If you have to go to church even, take your grandfather with you.”

  “Goodnight, Hunter.” She disconnected and slipped the phone into her top pocket.

  “What did he want?” Grandpa asked, as he flipped through the torn magazine, again without looking at the pages.

  “Just making sure I was safe.”

  “If you ask me, it sounded more like he thought you were in some kind of danger.”

  “Hunter is a worry-wart, that’s all.”

  “I like that young man.”

  She half-smiled. “Me too.” Hunter was a sweetie, even if he had a wild imagination.

  Her phone rang again. She rolled her eyes and swiped on the phone. Hunter needed to get a life. “Yes, Hunter.”

  “Kerry?”

  It wasn’t Hunter. It was a woman’s voice. “Yes.”

  “Oh, Kerry, I’m so glad I got a hold of you. Didn’t Grandpa tell you I wanted to speak to you?”

  Susan. Her stomach rolled. “Yes, he did. I’ve... been busy.”

  “Grandpa told me about your cases. I wished I could have been there to watch you on TV. Was it exciting?”

  Exciting? “No, Susan. Four women and an infant are dead. Nothing about that is exciting.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Susan paused so long, Kerry thought they’d been disconnected. “You there?”

  “Yes. Look, I know I screwed things up between us, but I had my reasons.” Her voice shook. “I was thinking about coming for a short visit. Would you meet me if I came?”

  Susan would come whether Kerry gave her permission or not. The hurt swirled inside her, and Kerry tamped it down. Maybe if she were able to admit to her sister how much Susan’s actions had torn her apart, Kerry might be able to heal. “Sure.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’ll call when I get into town. Bye.”

  She hung up just like that. Kerry shook her head. Good ole Susan. Some things never changed. How much time would Susan allow her to prepare for this uncomfortable trip?

  Grandpa looked up expectantly. “So you finally connected. What did Susan say?”

  “She’s coming to visit.”

  Her grandfather stilled. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” He looked away.

  Kerry moved from the chair to the sofa, and Buster snuggled next to her. “Time out. You’ve been pushing for the reunion since I came here. What are you hiding?” Kerry didn’t like the idea of seeing her sister again, but Grandpa apparently had a different reason for not wanting her to come.

  He ran his gnarled fingers along the front cover of the ragged magazine. “I, ah, probably should have told you this a long time ago, but when Susan lived here, she had a boyfriend who abused her.” His eyes watered.

  “Abused her?” Guilt waved its ugly head, followed by a rush of anger. “Why didn’t she tell me?”

  “She wasn’t proud of how she’d handled Brad. Actually, she left Tampa because of him. Had to run away in fact and disappear for good. Even I don’t know where she went. She uses a pre-pay phone card when she calls so it can’t be traced.”

  The horror of the situation took Kerry’s breath away. “Was he that bad?”

  “She never gave me any details. I’m sure she has a lot more to tell you.”

  “What else?” He dropped the magazine on the table and looked away. “Oh, no you don’t. You can’t drop the bomb then not tell me.”

  “It’s Susan’s story to tell.” He eased off the sofa. “Let’s go for a walk, Buster.”

  Damn him. She hated when he clammed up. It wouldn’t do any good to question him though. The man could keep a secret better than an angry pit bull could hold onto its victim.

  Kerry didn’t have the luxury of a relaxing weekend. The clock was ticking. She needed to identify the three women and the infant, make more reconstructions, find little oddities in their bones that would help her find out who they were, and learn how they’d died.

  She’d arrived at the lab over an hour ago but had managed to place only a few markers on #3’s skull. Her mind still reeled from what Grandpa had told her about her sister. My God. What if Brad had hurt Susan enough to kill her? Her sister could have been one of these women.

  Kerry couldn’t image the horror of someone knocking on her door and telling her Susan was dead. Kerry shivered and forced herself to get to work. Wouldn’t Hunter be pissed she’d driven herself to work instead of him chauffeuring her? Grandpa didn’t want to sit in the lab all day, especially on a Saturday when the place was dead—no pun intended. She had no choice but to come alone. Hunter would yell and complain about her being careless and not following his directive, but too damn bad.

  If he found out, he’d repeat the litany about how she needed to make sure she checked the back seat of her car before getting in, locked her car doors before she started the engine, and not to become distracted when she went from the parking lot to the office across the street.

  He acted as though she’d come from the boonies. Okay, maybe she had at one time in her life, but she’d lived several years in Baton Rouge and that was no small town.

  When her phone rang, she shuffled through her purse to find her cell, and then checked the display. Gotta love caller ID. “Hi, Hunter. What’s up?” Please don’t let him ask where I am.

  “I’ve been doing research on Janet Kopetski.”

  “Find anything out?”

  “Seems she was a model prisoner. The bonds desk where she worked told me she was a top-notch investor. I also spoke with two of her coworkers and neither one even knew she was married.”

  He gathered some amazing information for a weekend. The man must have major contacts. “Abuse is not only terrible but embarrassing. I can see why she kept quiet about her ex.”

  “You haven’t figured anything else out about the case, have you?”

  She stilled. Did he know she was at work? “No, but you’ll be the first to know when I do.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you Monday morning.”

  The moment the connection died, disappointment hit. She’d wanted to ask him how he was holding up, if he was sleeping okay, and eating enough—like everyday conversation between two people who cared.

  Kerry moved back to the half done skull, and a renewed sense of anticipation and energy filled her. Talking with Hunter helped center her attention on these women, in part because he was a non-stop whirlwind of information and in part because his passion for justice was infectious.

  She’d wondered more than once when he had time for his six-year old daughter. With his wife dead, she imagined taking care of the little girl was doubly hard.

  Kerry pushed aside the thoughts of the dedicated man and returned to work on #3’s face. She didn’t want to let Hunter or the families down.

  Discovering patterns drove Kerry to work harder. She’d loved puzzles as a child and became a whiz at cryptograms and crosswords by the age of fourteen. When Sudoku came on the scene, she knew she couldn’t even try one for fear she’d get nothing done once she started to arrange the number
s.

  These four women were a puzzle in their own right. If she studied them enough, she might learn how their deaths were connected.

  Kerry measured and cut more clay strips that would give life to #3. Hunter’s partner was working on the theory that an undertaker had dumped the bodies. She admitted these women could have been runaways, like Janet Kopetski. Janet’s dad hadn’t spoken to her for quite a while before she died. Perhaps phone calls went unanswered when the undertaker tried to contact the families, and not wanting to foot the bill for the burial, decided on dumping rather than burying. It was far-fetched, but not outside the realm of possibility.

  Kerry finished gluing the markers on the skull before placing the first piece of clay on #3’s forehead.

  “Dr. H?”

  She jerked at the voice. A young man stood at her door staring at the floor. He worked at the ME’s office. What was his name?

  “Yes?”

  He waited a moment. “I’m Dr. A’s autopsy tech, Steven.” He made eye contact, something he hadn’t done before.

  Her shoulders relaxed. “Ah, yes. I’m sorry. You helped with the infant we brought in a couple of days ago.”

  “Uh, huh. I, ah, wanted to see if you needed anything.” His grin had a boyish charm.

  “Actually, yes. Do you know if Dr. A is around?” John Ahern’s nickname sounded funny, but then again, so did Dr. H.

  “He just left. He has the Monday to Friday shift. He only came in today because he had some paperwork to do. I don’t think he knew you were here or he would have stopped by.”

  She wished he had. Kerry enjoyed this short interruption in her day but couldn’t for the life of her figure out the point of the visit. Certainly, he wasn’t flirting with her. He was a good five years younger than her.

  “I’ll let you know if I need anything.”

  He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and then smiled. Cute guy, but not her type. He was too GQ. An image of Hunter flashed in her mind. She liked his more serious attitude toward life.

  “Well, take care. And be safe,” he added as he slipped out.

  Hell, maybe he was a friendly guy who wanted to welcome the newcomer. But why the shy act when she first encountered him? She shrugged and returned to work reconstructing #3.

  Two hours later, hunger stopped forward progress. She needed food bad. Those who were working today had probably already eaten. Hunter warned her to stay in the building. Walking downtown alone to catch a bite would really piss him off, so why tempt fate?

  On the other hand, there was no reason why she couldn’t work from home. No one would bother her at Grandpa’s, and the thought of the leftover chicken Parmesan Grandpa had fixed made her stomach grumble.

  She packed up her gear and placed the skull in a cushioned box. She was glad to be leaving the cold morgue and returning to the comfort of her home, or rather Grandpa’s house. The longer she stayed there, the more she believed this was where she belonged.

  On her way out she called Hunter. Shielding her eyes against the bright sunlight, she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Medical Examiner’s building.

  “Where are you?” he asked.

  “I’m about to go out.” Technically not a lie.

  “Is your grandfather with you?”

  In her heart he was. “Yes.”

  “Don’t talk. Focus on your surroundings.”

  “The neighborhood’s safe.”

  “I meant once you arrive where you’re going.”

  Now he was scaring her. Kerry looked around. No one was within several hundred feet. “I’ll be fine.”

  The door to the main entrance of the lab’s office creaked opened behind her and she spun around. Steven.

  He waved and stepped back inside.

  12

  After wolfing down the leftover chicken, Kerry worked non-stop the remainder of the day on the clay reconstruction, taking only a small break to whip up a protein shake for dinner.

  After seven hours of work, her accomplishments weren’t impressive. All she’d done was place the strips of clay around the skull’s forehead, cheek, and mouth area. At this rate, it would take her two weeks to finish the face.

  Grandpa shuffled into the kitchen. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough for one day?” He looked through his bifocals at her work. “Hmm.”

  “Does it look bad?” She thought this face was coming out better than #1 had at this stage, but she was not a good judge of her creations.

  He touched one of the markers on the chin. “This one’s wobbly. You must be rushing. How about coming to bed? You can get up early and continue tomorrow.”

  She jiggled the rubber. Crap. It did sway but only a little.

  “Maybe you’re right.” Her fingers were having trouble keeping steady.

  Kerry put the clay back into the plastic bag so it wouldn’t dry out, and then closed the box that contained the eyes and teeth. Jane Doe #3 was missing her number thirteen maxillary canine, her maxillary first molars, sixteen and twenty-six, and both of her mandible third molars. The rest were in good shape.

  She yawned. Her grandfather was right. She was too exhausted to do a good job.

  After Grandpa called Buster to bed, Kerry flipped off the kitchen light and jumped in the shower. The hot water pounded her back. It was pure heaven. Exhaustion dampened her defenses, and for a brief moment, she pictured herself sharing the watery paradise with a certain homicide detective.

  She’d done the two-at-a-time wash-each-other experience only once, and Rod had turned out to be married. Her luck with men had always sucked. She’d moved to Tampa in part to be away from him. She also wanted to escape the pain of having lost her unborn child.

  Hunter might be single, but from the way his face pinched when he spoke about Amy, she knew he was still deeply in love with his dead wife. Maybe that was a good thing. Kerry certainly didn’t need any more distractions surrounding this case.

  Guilty about wasting water, she turned off the shower, towel dried, and pulled on a cotton nightgown. She slipped into bed, hoping for much needed recuperative sleep.

  Instead of the deep sleep she craved, she would doze off, only to wake up a short while later, uncomfortable with the temperature. Her sheets were too hot, but when she’d kicked the top sheet off, she became too cold. Aargh.

  She fell into a fitful dream state. Dark, scary images of someone in the backseat of her car with gleaming, wild eyes peering back at her in the rear view mirror darted through her subconscious. Then she dreamt of someone grabbing her by the ankles and dragging her into the woods while her face scraped against the rocky ground. When the mad man raised his arm to hit her, Kerry forced herself to wake up. Sweat drenched her nightgown.

  She looked around to make sure no one was in her bedroom. Only eerie shadows from the moon danced on her wall. She listened for the sound of someone breathing but heard her own heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

  It’s only a stupid dream. Go back to sleep.

  Again she drifted off. This time, she dreamt someone in a red pickup truck was following her down a dark, narrow road and forced her off the road onto a muddy field. As he approached her car on foot, she tried to speed away, but the tires spun on the soft shoulder, trapping her. Damn. He pulled out a knife and pounded on her driver’s side window with the hilt.

  Kerry sat straight up in bed, shaking. She debated working on her creation, but her mind was too frazzled to be effective.

  Scratching sounds drifted in from the kitchen. She stilled. Buster? It must be. Yet she could have sworn she’d seen Grandpa take him into his bedroom, and he always closed his door to keep the dog from roaming around at night and waking her up. Maybe Grandpa had failed to shut it all the way. Yes, that was it.

  Go to sleep, Kerry.

  Aw hell. When her stomach was full, she often slept better. A protein bar would help with that.

  She tiptoed out of the room into the hallway. Not wanting the light to leak under Grandpa’s door, she lef
t it off.

  Once in the kitchen, she went past the refrigerator and headed into the pantry. The scant light from the glowing microwave clock was enough to light her way. The protein bars sat on the back shelf in a plastic bin. Thank goodness for Grandpa’s insanely neat pantry, because she knew exactly where to reach. He’d even arranged his spices alphabetically.

  She grabbed a long smooth bar, turned around, and headed back to the hallway, careful not to bump into the kitchen table on the way out. She ate her feast on the way and dropped into bed the moment she returned.

  A loud knock sounded on her door, and it took a moment to realize she wasn’t dreaming. She opened her eyes. Soft rays of daybreak had filtered into her room. “Yes?”

  “Kerry, you need to come see this.” Grandpa sounded scared to death.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Come quickly.”

  Oh shit. She moved super fast, not bothering to change out of her nightgown.

  A minute later, she stared at a note on the fridge written in red magic marker. The handwriting was shaky. “Be happy it was dark.”

  “What does that mean?” Grandpa asked.

  Kerry’s breath sucked right down to her toes, and her legs trembled. “I d-don’t.. know. I didn’t write it.” Her mind raced. “I came in here last night for something to eat. I didn’t turn on the light when I grabbed a protein bar.” Her eyes widened as she clasped a hand over her mouth. Oh, shit. “Could someone have been in here when I was here?” Bile threatened to erupt.

  “That’s who Buster must have been growling at. I’m sorry. I thought you were prowling around and Buster was confused. Oh, my God. I should have seen what upset him.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  He twisted her shoulders toward him. “Are you okay? The prowler didn’t harm you or anything, did he?”